The Dove in the Belly
by sondragonfly
Summary: "Try as she might, she cannot explain away Sookie Stackhouse." Introspective Selah during her relationship with Bill. Rated M for adult content.


**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and locations belong to Charlaine Harris and are used in this fiction in good faith and without monetary compensation. This is Ms. Harris' world—I just play in it.

* * *

_The whole appearance is a toy. For this,_  
_The dove in the belly builds his nest and coos,**  
**_**Selah, tempestuous**_ bird. How is it that_  
_The rivers shine and hold their mirrors up,_  
_Like excellence collecting excellence?_

:::_  
_

She isn't Bill's first choice. But when she approached him at the vampire bar _Fangtasia_, he was lonely, desperate, and at least at that moment perfectly content to pretend she was what he wanted. _Who_ he wanted.

Selah understands she isn't exactly to his taste, but she's blue-eyed, if not blonde, and quite eager to please him. She pretends not to see the look of disgust that crosses his face at the sight of the scars left by other vampires and feigns indifference when he leaves her immediately after the sex.

Bill is a vampire after all, and vampires—in her experience—don't remember the human emotion of love. That's what she tells herself, at any rate, to explain their behavior toward humans in general and to her in particular.

But try as she might, she cannot explain away Sookie Stackhouse.

Selah knows of Sookie, of course. She isn't a regular at Merlotte's where that certain barmaid works, but Selah had been there enough times to recognize the other by face. When she hears that Sookie is Bill's former human, she sneers. Selah knows what she is worth. It is sure as hell more than Sookie Stackhouse, and she has no qualms expressing that to Bill.

But Bill looks at her with cold, brown eyes and a glare that borders on revulsion. She has done something wrong in slighting his ex-flame, which makes Selah curious. For days—or nights, rather—she begs Bill to take her to Merlotte's, to see this Sookie Stackhouse that made him so defensive.

Of course, he doesn't want to. No good could come out of two lovers meeting, former or otherwise. Eventually, however, Bill relents. She gets her way. Selah is nothing if not stubborn.

:::

She can feel the tension radiating off of him as they enter the bar and senses the exact moment he spots Sookie. That bothers her more than she cares to admit. Sookie approaches their table with a pseudo-smile. She is pretty—not beautiful—and curvy in ways that Selah would never be.

Bill orders his favorite drink—TrueBlood, O positive—and she mumbles out an order from Merlotte's selection of cheap beers on tap. Sookie returns quickly with that fake smile of hers, and Selah thanks her nervously, wondering if the barmaid had spat in her glass.

Selah has no desire to drink.

Her date sits quietly sipping at his bottle, scanning the bar casually every few minutes. They don't really talk, ever. Bill recognizes Selah for what she is, and she knows what he needs from her. When they see each other, a little after sundown most days a week, he asks the usual pleasantries, and she replies in kind. He is a southern gentleman at heart, which she likes, but in reality, that isn't their relationship. They don't cuddle and whisper in bed after sex. He doesn't ask her about her dreams and ambitions, and he definitely doesn't share his own.

She gives; he takes. An easy and efficient transaction.

Selah watches Sookie surreptitiously while the girl makes her rounds to the other tables, trying to see what vampires saw in her. She seems so uneducated, unsophisticated…so _simple_. She works in a bar, for heaven's sake. But for some indefinable reason, Bill finds her fascinating. No, not fascinating, Selah realizes.

Bill is in love.

Suddenly Selah is angry. She slams her beer down on the table. Bill looks at her in surprise. Finally—finally, _finally_—he looks at her, a question in his eyes. Then something catches his attention, and he looks away again. At _her_.

Selah wants to scream. She wants to cry. She wants to leap over the table and stake Bill through his traitorous heart again and again howling, _"FUCK YOU, BILL!"_

In the end she does the only thing she can.

:::

Selah takes Bill back to her house.

He watches her undress, his dark eyes hooded. She turns to him, and suddenly he is right next to her. A cold hand caresses her face. Selah closes her eyes, then, imaging that he wants her for herself and not for the blood in her veins.

Bill leads her to the bed, lifting her up onto the mattress as though she were as light as air. She sighs and sinks down into bed, and he slides into the sheets beside her, his cool body against her warmth. He kisses her, teeth glistening in the moonlight, and she opens herself to him.

In that moment Selah needs Bill as much as he needs her.

"_Bill,"_ she urges, lifting her hips to meet his. Fangs bared, he sheathes himself inside her. Once, then again. She loses herself to the rhythm of his practiced lovemaking. One without love—without _making_.

At last he shudders and bites her, drawing deep from the curve of her neck. He continues thrusting, and she finds her own release as he finishes. He licks the wound and then kisses it, almost in apology. He kisses her mouth, too, and she can taste her own blood on his lips.

He leaves her then, on a pretense of some necessity. She allows him his lies, and he takes his leave, vanishing into the darkness beyond her bedroom. She is left to lie there alone to sleep, her sheets still cold, as though she had been by herself all along.

* * *

**A/N: **I've had this in my WIP folder for a long time, not knowing what to do with it or whether or not I should publish it. I had been wavering on which tense I should put it in, and at last settled on present tense. I thought that kept the voice distant and kind of cold. The poem at the beginning is by Wallace Stevens, entitled "The Dove in the Belly," thus, the title of this piece. I hoped you enjoyed!


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